Bring Him Home
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: On the night of the Battle of Hogwarts, Molly asks a higher power to bring Harry home.  Song fic to Les Miserables' "Bring Him Home."


I got the idea for this while watching the 25th Anniversary Les Miz concert. Yes, the show is as old as I am, and yes, this song still moves me to tears every time I hear it. I felt like the majority of the lyrics could apply to such a situation as the one in the story. I hope you like it! I own nothing from Harry Potter or Les Miz.

* * *

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been reduced from its once glorious state to rubble and fires that would take little more than a spell to extinguish.

If they weren't busy fighting a war.

A cease-fire of sorts had been called, an ultimatum issued to Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived would face Lord Voldemort or they would all die. Many had already been lost, including her dear son, Fred. Molly Weasley, stout, matronly, loving, stood by her family as the hour passed. A deep gash crossed her right cheek, but she hadn't been aware of the injury. She was too numb, whether from adrenaline or grief or some combination of the two, to feel it. It had been hours since she had seen Harry or Ron, her youngest son, or Hermione Granger, their best friend.

The Great Hall was silent as the injured were tended to, and the others awaited their fate. Around her, the other Weasley children disbursed until she was left alone with no one but Fred for company.

Wizards were not notorious for their belief in prayer or higher powers. But in that moment, kneeling by the cot on which Fred had been laid, Molly Weasley prayed. She prayed for her children, their friends, her friends. But mostly, she prayed for Harry Potter, upon whose shoulders the fate of their world was so precariously balanced.

_God on high_  
_Hear my prayer_  
_In my need_  
_You have always been there_

Ginny Weasley neared her mother, Luna Lovegood at her side. The youngest member of the Weasley family noticed her mother's prostrate form and sunk down beside her. Her hand rested on Molly's back, but the older woman, so lost in prayer, never looked up.

_He is young_  
_He's afraid_  
_Let him rest_  
_Heaven blessed._  
_Bring him home._

The Forbidden Forest had always seemed dark and imposing, even during the day. Harry Potter, scared and alone, wandered through the trees. Branches scratched at him, nicking his clothes and cutting into his skin. His steps were careful, attempting to avoid the snap of a twig or a root he could fall over. He couldn't allow the enemy to know he was close.

The center of the woods neared, and Harry's heart pounded harder and harder. He was sure Voldemort could hear it beat, smell the sweat that dripped from his face. It was a cool spring night, but armed only with his wand and the invisibility cloak, he was sweating profusely beneath the thin material.

And why shouldn't he be nervous? Harry thought. He was going to his death. Like his parents, like Snape, Dumbledore, Sirius, his life would protect countless others. His _death _would save the lives of those he loved most.

The trees cleared to reveal a small patch of grass. One big enough for Voldemort and his most trusted followers to stand on even ground. Harry pulled off his cloak, revealing himself to the madman. Voldemort hissed in appreciation, mocking him for being such a fool as to venture past the safety the castle offered.

Harry couldn't help the guffaw that past his lips as he remembered the carnage that lay inside the hallowed halls of his school. He wouldn't retort, wouldnt' give the satisfaction to the maniacal dictator. Instead he raised his wand, pointing it directly at Voldemort. In that moment, the snake-like man did the same.

"_Avada Kedavra_" and "_Expelliarmus_" met, not for the only time that night, and Harry fell to the ground.

_He's like the son I might have known_  
_If God had granted me a son._  
_The summers die_  
_One by one_  
_How soon they fly_  
_On and on_  
_And I am old_  
_And will be gone._

"What's she doing?" Ron asked quietly as he moved to sit beside Ginny. The youngest Weasley shook her head, a silent "I don't know", before turning her worried expression back to her mother. Ron looked up at Hermione, who stood beside him, her clothes just as torn and dirty as the rest of them.

"Hush, Ronald," she quieted him harshly. The other Weasley siblings - Bill, Charlie, Percy, George - crowded around Fred's cot. No one knew what Molly was doing, nor were they able to rouse her from her state.

"She's praying," Hermione told them softly, kneeling beside Mrs. Weasley. She rested a hand atop Molly's folded hands. Though her body didn't shift, nor her eyes open, she took hold of Hermione's hand, continuing to pray.

_Bring him peace_  
_Bring him joy_  
_He is young_  
_He is only a boy_

"He's dead, my Lord," Narcissa Malfoy announced. She remained hunched over Harry, her eyes begging him to play dead. She had asked for her only son's whereabouts, and in exchange for such information, lied to the man her family most faithfully served. She could be killed; it was treason. But Harry had to win, of that much Narcissa was sure.

Pleased, Voldemort commanded a distraught Hagrid to parade the lifeless body of Harry Potter across the Hogwarts grounds.

"Harry Potter is dead!" he declared, his voice magnified for all inside the castle to hear. A crowd assembled on the front steps as Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and Hagrid neared. The half giant laid Harry down on the ground at Voldemort's behest. When they looked back, Harry was gone.

Vanished.

Invisible.

But Harry was alive.

_You can take_  
_You can give_  
_Let him be_  
_Let him live_  
_If I die, let me die_  
_Let him live_  
_Bring him home._

The battle was once more in full swing. The front lawn, the hallways, the Great Hall were filled with streaming jets of colorful light as witches and wizards, old and young, attempted to achieve victory for their side.

Molly had joined in the fight when it moved into the Great Hall. Voldemort's proclamation had roused her from her thoughts. She had held onto Hermione, sobbing for the sons she had lost that night. It wasn't until the curses began flying once more that her wand was drawn, determination written on her face.

Bellatrix LeStrange, a mess of black hair and leather clothes, dueled with Hermione, Ginny, and Luna. She taunted the girls as curses, jinxes, and hexes flew in all directions.

"Let them go the same way as Freddie," Bellatrix boasted, aiming her wand on Ginny.

Molly jumped into the fray, her wand trained on Bellatrix's heart. "You will not harm my children anymore," Molly cried before casting the Killing Curse for the first time in her life. Those who were fighting around her, slowed for a second. She received several surprised looks before Voldemort silenced them all.

"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, has come to die for you all," he spoke, circling Harry who spun around with him. Their eyes never left one another, wands never wavered. "Say goodbye, Mr. Potter."

For the second time in under an hour, their wands were trained on each other as their curses were spoken. Red light and green light barely touched as the red repelled green.

Voldemort was dead.

Cheers erupted around the Great Hall. The Aurors and senior members of the Order of the Phoenix who were not in need of medical care rounded up the remaining Death Eaters. Madame Pomphrey made quick work of transforming the hall into a triage, and began working on the injured.

Harry spotted the Weasley family. Molly's arms were around him as tears of joy were cried. Someone had heard her. Someone had answered her prayers.

_Bring him home._


End file.
